


O Captain! My Captain!

by ThenaCykes



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, explorations of the sea three's relationship, honestly this is just a method of me expanding on headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThenaCykes/pseuds/ThenaCykes
Summary: Expansions of headcanons and little snippets of moments in the relationship between Uma and her boys.





	1. Sleep

It’s hard to truly tell, on the Isle of the Lost, how fast time ticks on. There’s no way of calibrating any clocks, no way of knowing about changes with the cut off connection to the outside. Which means that beyond the sun rising and setting over the horizon, there’s no true way of knowing when the day has ended and the night has started. But the people of the Isle all awaken and roam whenever they see fit anyway. 

 

\----

 

For Uma, there’s no distinction between the two at all. She’s had the same schedule day in, day out for years now, it’s clockwork to her body. The day ends when her shift ends, in the small dark hours when her mother’s finally shut the shop for the sliver of time before the sun rises again, and she’s yelling for her daughter to start work again. 

 

Her shift ended what she can guess was about an hour ago. It was followed by a meeting with her crew, nothing too important - simply counting up earnings and cashing in what had been stolen over the course of the day. Most of the money had then been taken by Ursula and any of Uma’s protesting had been shot down in favor of demands to ‘get her little friends out of there’ and to close the place for the night. A few gestures had the former happening quickly, while the latter took far more time and effort. 

 

Still, it left her having dragged her feet up to the small little side room that she calls her own about twenty minutes ago. Hat and sword off, and set to one side, and body tucked down into the pile of thin, worn blankets that she calls her bed. She can’t complain. She knows there are kids who don’t even have that. 

 

Twenty minutes - at least by her count - and she hasn’t fallen asleep yet. It’s going to be one of those nights. 

 

She can hear her mother yelling below her. She doesn’t know what it’s about this time, but she can assign it to the usual drunken rambling about how powerful she was once, about how she nearly had the entire sea in her grasp, meaningless babble that almost makes Uma feel a shred of pity for Flotsam and Jetsam, the old things on the receiving end. 

 

It’s cold in the room too. There’s never really any warmth on the Isle, but sometimes in the hotter months, there’s at least a faint heat that gets trapped in the room. In the colder months, like this one, there’s nothing of the sort, and instead Uma’s left to try and insulate herself in blankets that are often more hole than fabric, to try to stop the way the cold bites at her bones. Cold water suits her perfectly fine, but there’s something about being forced up on land into the cold that sends shivers up and down her spine. 

 

Not to mention, it’s one of those nights where she’s noticing everything. The feel of the wood beneath her body, barely cushioned by cloth, the faint smell of rotting fish that drifts up from the shop beneath her, how the lack of life in the dark makes her feel almost hollow. 

 

So it’s no surprise, given all of that, that it’s just about when her eyes have closed and she’s managed to drift into something close to sleep, that her mother screeching for her to get up means her eyelids are snapping back open. 

 

Well, if the universe wants her to be in an especially bad mood, so be it. 

 

\---- 

 

Harry’s days end the instant Uma dismisses him. When the meeting between the crew members has finished and Uma’s made the slightest gesture for him to leave. 

 

He takes his time to usher the rest of the crew out, holding back for her, waiting for a few moments longer until she gives him a personal dismissal, a wave of her hand and a gesture of her head to send him out the door. He waits, just in case she needs him. He waits, because for all of his fearless and erratic persona, he doesn’t quite want to go home and face his father so soon. 

 

It’s a good night, though. He gets home and the old captain is too drunk to care about him being home late, to start berating him about how he’ll never match up to Harriet, how he’ll remain a disappointment for the rest of eternity. Harry’s too used to the derogation to care about anything out of his father’s mouth anymore. 

 

He’s up the stairs, in his bed fast as anything - his father’s one of the better off villains on the Isle who can afford to outfit his home with some luxuries, even if it is a small bed and an uneven mattress. 

 

It doesn’t matter to Harry, though. He never really sleeps properly, and tonight is going to be no exception, it seems. After silence for a while, the noise in the house starts up, loud, dissonant keys on an out of tune piano, that have some vague resemblance to an old sea shanty, if they weren’t out of order and the old man’s hands didn’t keep slipping. Each wrong note is followed by a bout of cursing and every so often the sound of something shattering. 

 

Still, it’s not like this isn’t the usual ruckus in this household. Harry’s used to it at this point. It just means it takes longer to sleep. 

 

He sleeps lightly, restlessly, hook cradled in his left hand as he does. He can never quite remember why, when he wakes up, but the slight smear of blood following a slice of his skin across one of his biceps when he looks in the morning suggests that he was thrashing about again. He chalks it up to nightmares that he’s blocking out. He’s alright with that. 

 

He’s probably late again, but there aren’t any clocks in his house for obvious reasons, so he’s sure Uma won’t be too mad at him for it. So he’s off to Ursula’s, at just after the crack of dawn, after slipping past his father, passed out on the couch. 

 

\----

 

Gil’s days end when he gets home. He wishes it ended when he got home, at least. He looks forwards to the mornings and the afternoons and the evenings he can be with the crew, where despite Uma berating him on multiple occasions, he’s actually acknowledged as an important member of the party. 

 

Uma only really talks down to him when he’s said something wrong, stepped out of line, and pressed a nerve that he shouldn’t have, so he gets it. Sometimes his mouth gets the best of him, and he doesn’t think too much of her reacting to it with hostility. She’s got a reputation to uphold, after all, and it’s just how the Isle raised her. 

 

His brothers and his father don’t really have much of a reason to ever talk down to him.

 

Though, it’s not like his brothers do. Gaston certainly does, every time he comes home, calling him a disgrace for letting himself serve under a woman, for not being as rough as his brothers, for simply being too soft. He’s done it forever, despite everything Gil has done to try to please him, despite the way he’s tried to make himself so physically strong, and despite those few years when he left Uma’s side. 

 

Then there’s his brothers. They’re not so fond of words. The twins are instead set on proving they’re above him physically, taking any opportunity they’re afforded to wrestle him to the ground and hold him there as long as it takes for them to get bored with his struggling. 

 

Not that he struggles all that much anymore. He knows by now to just be still, so they give up sooner. They’ve never overly hurt him more than a few bruises, but there’s an ache that follows every encounter, and they throw themselves at him so often he rarely has a moment to himself. 

 

It’s when the rest of the family are asleep, late at night, that he actually manages to sleep himself, but even then, it’s light and a little bit restless. If he sleeps too deeply, one of them might take it upon themselves to instigate a fight while he’s not conscious, for a hasty excuse of trying to teach him how he should always be ready to defend himself. 

 

On the bright side, he sleeps enough, and Uma never expects him in particularly early, so when he wakes in the morning, he’s at least slept long enough to feel somewhat rested. And as a bonus to him, he’s managed to get out of the house without anyone really taking notice, so there’s no extra ache in either his body or his heart for the morning. 

 

\----

Gil gets to Ursula’s place early, before it’s actually open for the day. Just barely though, when the cook is busy making up as much of everything as she can, to be doled out later. They’re not big on actually keeping things fresh and heated over there. The only things that aren’t truly open are the doors right now, which is usually Uma’s job in the morning. 

 

He’d put it down to the rebellious streak she has against her mom, but it only takes him stepping inside to realise that’s not the case today. 

 

Uma’s sat at the table the crew usually hang around, in the chair they’ve decorated to be her throne, at the head place. Harry’s sat next to her, in a far more standard wooden chair, but at her side all the same. 

 

That’s usual. What’s relatively unusual, is that they’re both fast asleep. Uma’s body is shifted enough in the chair for her head to be tilted over, cheek settled up against one of the first mate’s shoulders, nestled into his neck. Harry’s head is tilted similarly, only it’s resting up against Uma’s. Both pirates’ hats are sat on the table in front of them, and they look, if Gil’s going to be quite honest, as peaceful as he’s ever really seen them look. 

 

While he hates to disturb that, the shop is almost open, and it’s a position of vulnerability he knows they’d both detest being found in. 

 

So he steps over and gives his throat a little clear, just loud enough to cause Uma to stir slightly, realise where she is and what’s happening, and then shove one hand quite firmly into Harry’s shoulder to wake him. The instant he gives any indication of movement, she shoves away from her chair, wordlessly, and stalks to the kitchen. 

 

The bad mood’s still present, but she does have to get her apron on and open up shop. 

 

\----

 

Uma’s been on shift for a while, and Harry’s getting antsy. Usually he feels a little irritated when Ursula forces Uma’s attention away from her crew, but he can deal with it. But right now, out of what he’s sure is embarrassment from their earlier situation, Uma’s definitely ignoring him. 

 

Even when she’s working, she has time for an occasional jab at him, or a quick-witted response to any one of his numerous flirtatious remarks. He’s tried a few of his best ones already, and she point-blank refused to acknowledge his existence. 

 

Along with his lack of good sleep the night before, and the wound that’s still on one arm, Harry’s presently a very irate first mate. And when the first mate is unstable and liable to swing something sharp in your direction even on the regular, you tend to avoid him when he’s irate, which is why the rest of the crew are bunched up at either end of the table.

 

Except for Gil, of course. He’s sat next to Harry, perfectly understanding. Uma’s not paying attention to him either, not even to chastise him for doing something wrong. Like Harry, he’s assumed it’s because of an earlier case of embarrassment, with him catching them. 

 

Harry’s not ignoring him though, even if his responses to the conversation topics Gil tries to put forward are short and snapped. He gets it. He knows them both too well to not. 

 

Which is why he fully expects the click in Harry’s mind of doing something to make Uma jealous, and why he’s then totally not bothered by his sudden sweeping motion to stand, saunter the few steps it takes over, add in a spin when he gets there, and all but toss his weight into Gil’s lap. 

 

After a loud declaration about him taking a nap, his head rests back against Gil’s shoulder, and his eyes close, and he drifts off rather quickly. Beyond the knowledge that his body parts are going to get numb sooner or later, Gil can’t think of any problems he has with it all. 

 

It’s a different situation than before, of course. It’s public, in front of the shop and the rest of the crew, but this time it’s not quite so much an expression of vulnerability. With the dramatisation Harry’s known for, and Gil keeping quiet, it seems a lot more like it’s one of the first mate’s eccentricities - maybe some kind of show of dominance and the crew’s willingness to serve however fit. 

 

But the noise of the performance drowns out something quieter - a gesture of trust, if anything - of Harry willingly ensuring his safety for the moment to Gil. He wouldn’t sleep quite so well if he didn’t feel safe. 

 

Uma looks over a few times while they’re sat there and Gil makes a mental note to remember to tell Harry when he wakes up. 

 

\----

 

Uma dismissed the crew early today. None of them were hesitant to scurry out of the place, practically falling over themselves and each other to get out, rather than incur their captain’s wrath. Her mood’s been obvious all day. Those that aren’t too afraid to do so will have run to their families, if they have them. The rest will have gone to hunker down in the few hammocks that are strung up on The Lost Revenge. 

 

Uma wishes she could join them. 

 

It’s just her in the shop now, her and Gil. She sent Harry out a while ago on his rounds and collect money from the people on the Isle who are paying for her protection. They’re meeting him at the ship to count it all up and add it to the collection for the end of the week, but she has to clear out her mother’s place first. 

 

Gil’s helped, taken up half of her shift for himself and the customers prefer him, prefer his willingness to listen and serve the right dishes without spitting in them. It means it goes a lot faster, which means that there’s still a sliver of light left in the sky outside when they’re done. They don’t have to see Harry until the sun’s down, so for now, they’re sat together. 

 

Uma’s on her makeshift throne again, and Gil is seated beside her. It’d be complete, if Harry was on her other side, but he isn’t right now, so it’s a little off. That’s the last thing she remembers thinking for a while. 

 

Gil knows why. It’s because after a while of sitting, her slumped limply in her chair, she’d ended up in the same position with him as she was with Harry earlier in the day. Leaning over the side of the chair, head pressed up against one of his arms as she drifts off into sleep. He’s not too bothered by this, either, and he knows she won’t be quite as much, since the place is closed up early today and no one’s going to come in and see them. 

 

Still though, it’s getting steadily later and later and the light is slowly going and he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he let her be late. But she’s so calm and peaceful, it’d be just cruel to disturb. He knows she’d rather he be cruel, but she’s asleep, so she doesn’t have any say in the matter right now. 

 

So, careful as anything and doing his best to not knock her about, he lifts her up off her seat and into his arms. She’s going to hate him for this one, but the ship isn’t far enough for it to be likely anyone might see them, and even then he’ll just make some excuse about her getting injured. It’ll make her seem rougher, he thinks. 

 

\----

 

Lucky for both Gil and Uma, no one did end up seeing them, which meant that Gil got her quite safely to the ship, where Harry was not looking pleased about waiting. Not that he really knows what late is, since he can’t tell the time, being as clocks have been banned from his household since he can remember. 

 

The irritation softens an imperceptible amount at the sight of Uma resting, and he turns his head to quirk an eyebrow in Gil’s direction, a silent question. 

 

The response is a shrug and a tentative question. “Captain’s quarters?” 

 

Harry pauses, and turns, to scan his gaze over the rest of the ship. Everyone else is below deck, presumably sleeping already. There’s a dip of his head as he turns back to Gil. “Aye.” 

 

The captain’s quarters are towards the stern of the ship, and since it was once Hook’s, it is outfitted with a bed, as small and creaky as it may be. Which is why they head over there to settle Uma in. They’re already here, after all, and there’s no chance of her getting any actual sleep at her mother’s, in all likelihood. 

 

When they enter, and Gil’s about to step over to gently get her into the bed, she stirs in his arms and her eyes crack open just enough to reveal a sliver of white and dark irises. Gil freezes, prepared for the berating of a lifetime, for insults and screaming loud enough for the whole island to hear her. 

 

But it’s just them there, the captain and her boys, and Uma’s far too tired to make an effort or pretend she cares more than she really does. “Wait.”

 

She sits up a little, and Gil, taking the hint, releases her, setting her down on the floor gently. At least she can manage flashing him a glare, though the daggers in her eyes are clouded by sleep, rendering them far less threatening than they’d usually be. 

 

Harry and Gil wait for her to speak again. It’s a while before Uma actually spits out what she wants to say, as if she’s been turning it over in her head for ages before she actually deems it suitable to let out of her mouth. It starts with a slow breath in, and the squaring of her shoulders, gaze avoiding theirs for a moment. 

 

“You should stay here too. Better than both your houses.” 

 

Gil and Harry exchange a glance, but they don’t protest. She’s right, of course, and she’s their captain, so they’d stay with her even if she wasn’t. 

 

Uma’s expression is becoming gradually more embarrassed and annoyed, as she waits for them to react, buried by a brief flicker of surprise at the soft thudding sound of Harry dropping his hook on the little wooden table by the bed and leaning his sword against the wall. He makes an effort to shuffle out of his boots and toss his hat into one corner of the room too, before he’s slipping in underneath the cover of the single blanket the bed has.

 

The captain gives him a sort of appreciative look for not making a deal out of it, as she settles her own sword up next to his, slips off her boots next to his, sets her hat next to his hook, and climbs in after him, back to his chest. It leaves them both free to watch Gil expectantly, unfathomably dark and absurdly bright eyes staring with the same intense expression. 

 

He doesn’t have half as many effects as them, so it’s just his boots and sword off to one side before he’s following them in, facing the pair of them, he and Harry building up a wall of protection around Uma. 

 

\---- 

 

They wake, the next morning, each of them feeling more refreshed than they have in seventeen years on the Isle, Gil with an arm curled around the other two, Uma’s head against his chest, Harry’s left hand in hers to make up for the lack of his hook. 

 

Far be it from any of them to admit it, but it’s made a regular occurrence from then on. They try to hide it, keep it secret and hidden away from other eyes, but the crew all already know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically i just wanted to put more gil-based content out into the universe.

Gil gets to Ursula’s early in the morning. Just around opening time, usually - ten minutes before on good days, barely scraping on time on bad days. It depends on his dad’s temperament in the morning. 

 

Uma’s always there - he can hardly remember seeing her outside the place more than once a week, when she lords over her own ship - and Harry too, though while she’s working to set up shop on her mother’s orders, the latter is more often than not half draped over tables, fiddling with his hook or his stopped fob watch, or on good days, tapping away at the organ pushed to the back of the shop. 

 

Today’s a good morning, so he’s early. Harry’s already off talking about something or other and Uma’s half-listening, half-wiping down tables with a filthy, torn old rag that seems to be doing the opposite of its job and making the surfaces even dirtier. But, she’s at least making a minor effort to nod or hum along to whatever complaint or rambling is spilling from Harry’s already grinning mouth. 

 

It’s the usual scene, so Gil busies himself the usual way. That is, by grabbing his own torn cloth and starting on the tables further towards the back, the ones that are always filthy, where Uma hates to clean. He finishes with those and finishes cleaning off the signs, bumping up the scratched in prices by a little more, carrying baskets of two-day-old, no-longer-fresh fish into the kitchen, and by the time he’s finished that, they’ve been open for fifteen minutes - give or take - and the crew of the Lost Revenge are all already crowded round their usual table, with Harry at their head. Uma, of course, is now on shift. 

 

So Gil gets himself some food, as much as the cook will willingly heap onto a tray for him. When he first joined Uma’s crew, she’d promised him, along with everyone else, that they’d never go hungry, that they could eat as much as they wanted there without having to pay the extortionate prices that everyone else did. It’s held true for a while now, especially considering how much he eats. 

 

He spends a couple of hours eating. He never gets much at home, so what Uma offers him is all he really ends up eating in a day. Plus, he likes that he can take his time here, and none of them - bar Harry, if he’s in a bad mood - will try to take it off him. 

 

He sits quietly, just enjoying his meal, while Harry talks, occasionally muttering affirmations with his mouth full of food or grunting by way of response, brushing off the taunts and chastising that come from the first mate. 

 

Uma always makes her way over eventually, bored after working an hour and a half of her shift, ready to scheme something fierce. Some piece about Auradon will be playing on the only channel the busted old television gets and she’ll shriek and rave for a while about how Mal’s ruined her life again and again and how she’ll have revenge eventually. 

 

Now, don’t get him wrong, Gil believes her. He believes from the bottom of his heart that she’ll get her revenge on Mal and on the rest of Auradon one day. He understands too, understands that betrayal has lodged in her throat since they were kids and that being raised in this place has only made her more likely to hold a grudge. 

 

But sometimes, he just wishes she’d be happy. In a genuine sense that is, where her happiness would make him inherently happy too. She has a crew who’d do anything for her, all the turf she could want, power over the people here, better chances at food and supplies than anyone else on the island. But, if she wants more, if she wants to keep taking until she owns the world, then he’ll follow her there, he’ll give her the world himself if he has to. 

 

But he can’t yet, so he’ll help her as best he can in other ways. 

 

And everyone else too. When another crew member says something, gets too excited and doesn’t stop themselves in time, makes Uma and Harry stop in their tracks, the latter almost seeming pitying as he looks over at the poor soul on the receiving end of Uma’s turning, the glare in those fathomless eyes, the bubbling rage in her chest ready to explode into wrath, Gil steps in. 

 

Not directly, of course. He’s not stupid. He knows Uma would trust him with her life, but he also knows that, at least in public, she’s not one to soften her blows for the sake of trust. 

 

No, instead he steps in with an agreement of whatever they said, maybe throws in a reference to Mal too. Sometimes he makes those accidentally, when he’s too caught up to think straight about what he’s saying. Despite what the general consensus on the Isle is, though, he’s not actually stupid, so sometimes they’re on purpose, sometimes they’re for moments like this. Maybe if he didn’t mention it, Desiree or Jonas or whichever of them it was would have been run out of the place by now, barred from entering until Uma cools off. 

 

Instead, Uma and Harry flash Gil a glare, a warning, and he gets sent out to sit in front of the shop for a while. (Harry always says half an hour, but Gil knows he can’t tell the time to know when it’s up anyway.)

 

He always thinks about it while he’s out there. How he steps in whenever he can, to take the blow of someone else’s wrath on his back. He’s big, he’s strong. He can take it. He’s done it physically, stepped in to protect the crew in fights if they need it, knocked the living daylights out of anyone who’s tried to threaten any of them. He does it like this, shielding the crew from the tumult inside Uma. 

 

He’s done it for Harry before too. When he’s pushed his remarks a little too far and ticked Uma off a little too much. She’d never snap for his neck the way she does with some of them, but it’d hurt him more than he’d let on to have her actually get irritable with him. So Gil steps in, like he always does. 

 

When he gets back inside, after maybe ten minutes, he starts to work. He takes so much food from them, he feels as though he should earn it somehow. He likes to feel useful to Uma too, likes to help her out, especially when he knows how much being here so often stresses her out and contributes her to bad moods. 

 

He works the same shift as her, takes half of her work, moves between tables and takes orders. The cook lets him too, because it means more money comes in, so she, along with Uma and the rest of the crew don’t tell Ursula and nor do the patrons, because he doesn’t spit in their food and he gives them the right orders, and they kind of like that. 

 

He works until almost closing time, at which point he gets himself another few meals, stocks up so he doesn’t go hungry in the night and takes a seat at the table with the rest of the crew. At this point, most patrons beyond the pirates are gone, though it’s not like Uma would even spare them a glance, never mind a meal, if they hadn’t. 

 

They - Uma, mostly - spend an hour counting up the earnings from their runs of terror through the isle. Most of it comes from Harry, scaring most of the inhabitants out of their wits and their money, but Gil draws in a fair amount of cash too, just through shows of pure, brute force. 

 

The small, approving smirk that Uma flashes him and the way it makes his insides feel fuzzy whenever he presents is always worth it. Worth anything and everything. 

 

The rest of the crew are cleared out a little while after, leaving just the three of them. A lot of the time, Harry and Gil simply sit and watch her move as she closes everything up, watch as she finally lets the exhaustion of working day in and day out without a break show on her form, the slump of her shoulders, the drag of her feet along the floor. 

 

They used to think she was invincible, invulnerable. The stress of working weighs on her, the power and control she has and the balance she needs to maintain with it, the way she always seems to be at the bottom of the pile despite how hard she tries to claw to the top. She’s far from invulnerable. But she hasn’t fallen yet, hasn’t buckled under all that, so they’re both still convinced she’s invincible. 

 

Even so, more often than not, Gil’s recently been insisting she stay sat, taking the weight off her feet, so he can close everything up and clean up ready for tomorrow. She argued a little the first few times, insisting she can do it herself, indignant that he thinks she’s too weak to go through with even the simplest of tasks. She always gave in eventually, what with Gil’s soft concern and Harry’s repeated insistence. 

 

By now as soon as he stands, she’s pulling herself over to a seat, the near imperceptible flicker of softness in her eyes as she glances over at him reward enough for it. 

 

When everything is done, he always leaves first. Harry’s only in there for a few minutes longer and he always catches up, the pair of them, two of the most powerful pieces on the isle, side by side in relatively companionable silence until they turn down different back alleys without a goodbye. They’ll always see each other tomorrow anyway. 

 

When Gil gets home, even if his dad is in a bad mood, even if his brothers are in a worse mood, he always finds himself thinking it’s been a good day. As long as he gets to see Uma, as long as he gets to see Harry, as long as he gets to see the crew and help the closest thing to a family he’s ever really had, it’s been a good day. 

 

Even in a place like this, a bad day has yet to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! if you wanna make a request or see other things i'm into and other things i do, then i'm at https://el-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/


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